The Untold Story of an Australian Cattle Station
by idkmybffcandlejack
Summary: The time that was given off from the shadow companies was not so much held in high regard as it was simply held. Usually, everyone took the time to head home and see family. It could be the last time after all." Sniper-centric.
1. Chapter 1

_Please see my notes at the bottom for anything with new meat._

_TF2 is not mine, I just fool around with it. _

* * *

_One._

The car was a rental, shiny red that had been cleaned that day. It would be filthy by the end of the day. He drove through Alice Springs without stopping and into the outback without a so much as a backwards glance. The time that was given off from the shadow companies was not so much held in high regard as it was simply held. Usually, everyone took the time to head home and see family. It could be the last time after all. The Aussie was not happy. He was far from happy to go home to his parents and attempt to give them the money to buy what they needed to live comfortably. To set up for their retirement. He was not happy when his father turned it away and spat on the red dirt near the cattle pen and looked into the distance. "Don't need yer blood money, boy."

He flicked his blinker on, even though there was no one for kilometers. He turned on the dirt road that led to his families Livestock Station. Land that his father and mother ran by themselves. They deserved to be able to pay for that land. To keep it. They were thankless though, and refused to let him help them at all.

The rental car kicked up dirt as it rattled its way down the road. He drove for a couple of hours and knew he was getting close when the cows and sheep began dotting the road next to him. The station slowly came into view. The homestead was the largest building followed by the ranch hands quarters and the barn. The silo loomed in the distance along with spots of windmills for pumping water. The airstrip was covered in sheep. His parent's Station was by far one of the smallest in the Outback with only a couple thousand acres and only a bit more than 4,000 animals. The ranch hands were only few as well, often with their wives and children if they were older. Mostly, they were young Jackaroo's fresh eyed and ready to let the sun and the Outback have all of them. His father rode with them every day and his mother cooked their meals. Making a sort of family out of the lot of them all. He had been part of that family for some time until he decided to take on the job of being an assassin. Good money that he knew he and his family could use. Money they didn't want. Refused to take.

He pulled the rental car up to the house and let the dust settle before stepping out. At least, that's what he told himself. When he did step out he took a look around the property, taking it in for the first time in a little less than a decade. Had it really been that long since he was last here?

"Can I help you?" He turned his attention to the front porch, where a young lady with dark hair was standing. She looked at him as if he had committed some great sin in the face of God himself.

"No, I know what I am doing, thank you," he told her and she frowned at him.

"You got business here, then?" she demanded and he looked up at her again over his sunglasses. This girl was probably the daughter to one of the hands. She didn't look much older than twenty-five in her long chemise dress. Her dark hair reached only her shoulders and tumbled slightly in the hot wind as she stood on the porch, leaning into the guardrail that ran around it. She was barefoot and had obviously just come from the house.

"Maybe I do," he told her as he opened the trunk of the car and leaned into it to pick up his luggage. He slung his bag onto his shoulder and picked up the case that held his gun carefully. She frowned on at him. "Get outta here, Sheila, I'm not in the mood to deal with some Jackaroo's cook. I'm here to see my parents."

The girl fumed. "I'm not married," she told him before stomping angrily back into the homestead. He watched her for a moment, wondering why she thought he should care about this piece of information concerning her marital status. He watched the door for a moment before he followed her, carefully dragging his things in with him.

"Mum! Mum, I'm home!" he shouted and within a moment a short, plump woman was poking her head from the kitchen doorway. She made a gleeful sound and walked into the foyer to greet her son.

"Oh, Bruce!" she said as she hugged the much taller man before her. He stood still with his mother's arms around him getting to know his name again. Back at the base they were each only individually known by their class. "We've missed your phone calls!" she told her boy as she stood back to look at her tall son.

"Been a bit busy at work," he told her, rubbing his neck bashfully. His mother frowned, clearly not in the mood to speak of his line of work or whatever he had been doing at it. "Where's dad?" He decided to change the subject.

"Out musterin' some cattle about five clicks out that way. Gotta put them in the long paddock," she pointed to the south and her son turned to look. "Oh, Paige," she said suddenly as the girl in chemise dress came into the foyer. He turned to look at her. "You remember my son Bruce, don't you?"

"How could I forget," she said and he narrowed his eyes at the girl before him. Her beauty was diminished by the disdainful look that she continued to bestow upon him. He felt like he should have known that look from somewhere.

"Where are your manners? Take those damn sunglasses and that hat off in my house, boy," his mother said and he followed her orders, carefully removing the articles and following his mother into the kitchen where meat was being cooked and a few vegetables were being chopped. It was dinner for everyone being prepared. He had missed the smell of his mother's food. Not that the Medics domestics weren't appreciated it just wasn't home.

"I'll just move my things into my old room, then?" he said finally tearing his attention from the food. His mother told him to be quick about it and to go out and help his father with the cattle and sheep. He once again did as he was told and moved his things to the bedroom he had occupied until he was twenty-six years old. He dropped his bag onto the bed and then took a seat next to it. He looked around the room at photos and posters.

Looked at dust and dirt.

This was the worst idea he'd ever had.

* * *

The heat was palpable as Bruce climbed onto the horse. September in Australia was terrible and he'd forgotten that. He had become so used to the mild autumn of America. Paige was standing on the porch again, her white dress the only thing he could see from the barn. He turned his horse and she turned as well, walking into the house. He watched her dress disappear into the house.

The screen door slammed and echoed across the station. A sound he'd heard before.

The horse moved him quickly to the long paddock where his father and six other men were herding cattle. He trotted up to the other Jackaroo's that sat joking and laughing with his father.

When his dad saw him he spit onto the ground.

"Get tired of killing people, boy?"

"Can't get tired of killing people that need to be killed," he said and his father spit again.

"What you doin' back here in the never never?" one of the Jackaroos asked, hands resting one on the other on his saddle. He was tan and lean like the others, older though. He was Jack, his father's closest friend and best ranch hand. They were in the war together.

"Got to make sure it's still here, Jack," he told him and smirked as the older Jackaroo laughed. One of the other Jackaroos leaned forward and offered him a cigarette. He accepted it and lit it from a lighter in his pocket. He took a drag and puffed out the smoke into the already heavy air.

"What you doing out here anyway?" his father asked and he looked at him over his sunglasses.

"Mum said you needed help."

"We got it under control, boy," his father said gruffly and he thought about turning his horse around and riding back to the homestead but ignored his father instead. He turned to Jack.

"Who's that wild Sheila in the house? She seemed ready to have a blue with anyone who walked into that homestead," he took another drag from his cigarette and adjusted his weight on the horse. Jack gave a laugh and slapped his leg.

"Don't remember that girl, do you? She was only about nineteen when you left home. She remembers you boy," Jack laughed and stubbed his cigarette out by knocking off the cherry and smothering the end with his fingertip. He smirked. "She remembers you."

"She's a bitch," another Jackaroo said. "Tried to get a date outta her only got a row."

"Well, maybe you should be a bit more polite, Richard," Jack told the boy that was next to him.

Bruce looked at the man Jack was speaking to, Richard.

"Paige doesn't want polite, she wants rough. That's why she's always looking for a fight. She wants a-"

Bruce cut Richard short, "-Dick?"

The other Jackaroos sniggered at the man and he even saw his father smirk a bit at the joke. "Isn't that right, Dick?" he asked and smirked at the other man, looking at him over his sunglasses.

"Rack off, Bruce," Richard snarled. "You haven't even been 'round to know anything. You left her here with everything else to go be a fancy gunman."

"What? Paige? She isn't anything of mine," he told Richard and turned his horse. "And she isn't anything of yours. So, if I were you, mate, I wouldn't act like such a show pony about it. Maybe you should be a bit more professional," He looked at his father and nodded. "I'll be back at the homestead if you do end up needing me for any musterin'."

His father nodded, but didn't look him in the eye and he galloped away.

* * *

Paige was in the kitchen laughing with his mother. He stood outside the door peering though a crack at the women. They were peeling potatoes together over a bucket and dropping the peelings in as they worked. Fruits and vegetables were sparse on the stations and so he knew the meal would be good with the addition of the spuds. It was probably because he was home that she would drag them from the root cellar to cook them. If he hadn't shown up then everything would have been the same. The food that week would have been mostly protein and nothing else. He wanted to enter the kitchen, offer to help. He didn't fit in here either.

His fingers paused to push the kitchen door open a bit more when he heard Paige speak. "Mrs. Champion," she giggled and he had no idea at what and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Was she talking about him? Why did he suddenly feel fifteen again and why did he suddenly care? She was a bit of a dog about everything despite her physical attraction.

"All I'm saying is that maybe you shouldn't still be mad at him," his mother said to Paige as they continued to peel potatoes.

"He does look fit…"

He'd heard enough. He pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen. "Ladies," he said as smoothly as he could. "Dad didn't need me to help with the animals. He and Jack have it under control… and Richard. Who the hell is that bloke anyway?"

"Your dad hired him a few years ago. He's a good hand," his mother said and handed him the bucket of peelings.

"I beg to differ, Mrs. Champion," Paige said as she began cutting potatoes. She actually held more disdain for Richard than she did for him. Bruce beamed a little at the thought. So she didn't completely hate him for any reason. She hated all men. "He is just like all the other men I have known on this station." She shot Bruce a sideways look. He ignored her and looked at his mother instead. She was looking at him, her expression becoming that of anger. He stood there with the bucket of peelings wondering why his mother was looking at him as if he'd committed some God-awful crime.

"Boy, take those out to the heap," his mother told him. "And don't come back into this kitchen until you learn some manners. If I have to tell you to take those sunnies and that hat off in my house again I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life."

He looked at his mother and then at Paige. "I'm not that awful right?"

"Get out of the kitchen."

"Well, I'm better than that Dick fellow, right?"

She didn't say anything but simply looked at him with dark brown eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Get out, Bruce."

He left the kitchen through the back door and dumped the peelings into a compost heap and he didn't return without taking his sunglasses and hat off first.

* * *

Paige stood in the shower.

It had been over the five-minute limit. She was wasting the well water just standing there and she knew it. She knew better. The water was warm, dripping off her fingertips. Dinner had been uneventful and quiet. Very quiet. No one asked anything about how Bruce was doing. How he was feeling. How his job was. They chewed in silence. Mr. Champion had asked Paige for the saltshaker even though it was closer to Bruce. He had noticed.

She stepped out of the shower and went down the hall to her bedroom. Hers was the guest bedroom that was next to Bruce's room. She leaned against it, listening for a moment to the sounds of him moving around his room. Probably not unpacking. He wasn't here long enough. He was doing something. She could hear his shoes click audibly on the wooden bedroom floor. She backed away and went to her room, dressed and picked up a pack of cigarettes.

The heat had dissipated as the sun set, finally leaving the Outback cool and tolerable. Paige tipped her pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. It went between her lips and she checked the half empty package for a lighter. There was not one to be found.

"Hell," she cursed and turned to go back inside for the lighter when Bruce met her, slightly disheveled and not wearing his sunglasses or hat. He had also cast aside his vest and was wearing only the red shirt and jeans he had arrived in. His sock had a hole where a toe peeked out.

"Need a light?" he asked and she frowned at him.

"Yeah," she said finally and he pulled his lighter from his pocket. She leaned her body forward to accept the light. Gracefully, her curves moved with her dress, her feet arching with the movement and her hands holding her hair out of the way. He couldn't help but look at her chest. He lit his own cigarette when she pulled back.

They stood in the dark then, with only the end of their cigarettes lighting up their features.

* * *

This is something different, obviously.

This is about the Sniper, who I clearly favor above all other TF2 boys. Also, who I've decided to call Bruce because of this: B^| BURCE! :D

Anywhat, don't know how long this will be or where it is going right now other than freakin' misadventures. Ideas are welcomed? I have chapter 2 mostly written so I hope to update soonish unless I get rotten fruit thrown at me, of course.

Looking for feedback on this. If you read it. Tell me what you thought. If you looked at it tell me what you saw. If you started it and then got all WTF, mate? about it then tell me why you did and I can act accordingly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two._

Bruce and Paige stood on the porch quietly smoking their cigarettes. She looked straight out at the desert, her arms wrapped around herself. She wiggled her toes to keep the circulation going. He ran a hand through his hair, carefully mussing it. The ash from his cigarette fell onto his foot. She bent down and pushed her cigarette into the porch and then stood up gracefully. He watched her for a moment and then turned away when she began to face him. Her feet padded slowly away in the homestead and he listened for only a moment longer to make sure her door shut.

He stubbed his cigarette out as well and tossed the butt away and into the darkness. The sounds and smells of cattle followed him back to his bedroom where he collapsed on his bed after the long day of driving and the stress of meeting up with his parents again for the first time in seven years. Not to mention the ever-lovely Paige, who was a pretty girl but the biggest bitch he'd ever met. He pulled his socks off and laid back, sliding his hands under his head and as he listened to the sounds of animals and Paige in the next room getting ready for bed.

Sleep came easy.

When he awoke again he realized that it was still dark and that there was a gun being fired. He sat up and listened for the sound of another shot. Who would be firing a gun this late on the Station? He pulled his boots from under the bed and was about to pull them on when he heard another shot. Instead, he stood and ran from his bedroom and out the front door. The screen door slapped the frame making the same sound it always did. The cattle uneasily moved around the long paddock in the distance. Paige stood in the red dirt, barefoot and holding a rifle in her hands. She brought it up to fire it again and cursed.

Bruce jogged up to her and pulled the gun from her grip unceremoniously.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Give it back! The dingoes are killing the sheep!"

Bruce looked into the scope at the airstrip where he had seen the sheep standing when he arrived. There was in fact a small pack of the red dogs and they were dragging dead sheep through a hole in the fence around the property. He braced the rifle against his shoulder and pulled the trigger. A yelp sounded across the property and the dog fell dead. He expelled the shell from the gun as Paige ran to the airstrip. He followed her at a walking pace, coming up behind her as she bent over the body of one of the sheep that had been killed.

"It's gotten worse," she said not really to anyone in particular. Bruce looked at her and then put the gun on his back.

"Help me carry it," he said and grabbed the back legs. Paige followed suit and took the front ones. A trail of blood followed them to the homestead where they laid the creature out on the porch. He leaned the gun on the wall of the homestead. His mother would be able to cook lamb for dinner the next night and probably the next week.

"It was only a baby."

"That's how it goes sometimes," he answered and Paige looked up at him. She was frowning.

"This isn't the battlefield, Fancy Gunman," she told him and stood up.

"Alright, that's it," he grabbed her wrist before she could stomp off into the homestead and back to her room. "What the hell is your problem, because last I checked I haven't done anything to you."

Paige wretched her wrist from his grip and pointed at him. "You haven't done anything to me?" she said with an inflection that suggested otherwise. "Oh, that's wonderful! You know Bruce, I thought after seven years you would have realized what a gigantic wanker you were being when you left!"

"Why is everyone still so hung up on that? I took a job that I wanted- needed- and it's like I committed some great bloody sin!"

"Well, you didn't exactly leave on good terms with me or your parents did you? You deserted this Station and us! I thought…"Paige stopped short and shook her head. "Your parents needed you. I needed you."

"I don't even…" he looked at Paige, standing wit her fists balled up at her sides. Her face was red in the dim porch light that shone on them and the dead lamb.

"What?" she asked, embarrassed now that he was just staring at her.

"You're Paige," he said and she looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Yes, I know who I am, thank you, you wank," Paige said and he was looking at her again. "What?"

"Your, uh, figure has really filled out," he said and she only seemed to get angrier.

"Rack off, Bruce!"

"I'm honestly getting tired of hearing that," he said pointing at her.

Paige crossed her arms and exhaled a breath.

"So, you're pissed at me because I left for a job?"

"That's not all, Bruce. You know why else," Paige said gently to him.

"It this about dad?" Bruce leaned against the rail on the porch. He watched the cattle mill around quietly. There was a light on in the Stations hand's house. The house creaked with the wind and he heard Paige shiver. He turned around and looked at her. "He's been apples, ain't he? Looks well," he said.

"Well, he's not. You know he's not. He could have died and you would have been in America. You would have been doing your fancy shooting," she said and he looked at her carefully as she spoke. "He would have asked for you."

"I would have come if he'd asked. He wouldn't ask though. I know he wouldn't," he said and she laughed a little under her breath.

"We took him to the hospital in Alice," Paige began. Bruce looked at her. "It's cancer."

"When?"

"Three years ago."

"God dammed it," he whispered and she looked at him. He rubbed his face.

"I'm sorry I told you. He should have told you himself," she said and her hand slid over his shoulder.

"He wouldn't have and neither would you," he answered and Paige pulled her hand away.

"Don't forget your gun," he said and he heard the screen door slam.

* * *

When the morning came Bruce found himself sitting in bed and yawning. He rubbed his face and could not hear Paige moving around in the next room. She must have already been up. He stood and found his bag with clean clothes in it. He pulled on a pair of jeans and another red shirt. He found it was almost all he owned. He felt like he had left home with more back in 1961. He put on a new pair of socks and thought about putting his hat on. He knew better.

Bruce closed the door to his room quietly and looked at the door to Paige's room. It was cracked open slightly. He made his way to the kitchen hoping his mother hadn't already put away all the breakfast foods. He was in luck when he found lamb chops on the table with eggs and fresh milk. He tucked in.

"Don't leave dead animals on the porch anymore," his mother said from the sink where she was washing the hands dishes.

"Sorry, mum," he said. "There was a commotion last night."

His mother nodded and continued washing the dishes.

"So, Dad has cancer?" he said suddenly and his mother stiffened. "Paige told me. Why didn't you?"

"Your father didn't want me to," she admitted turning to look at him. He picked up his fork and began eating again. "I'm sorry, Bruce."

"Where's Paige?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I haven't seen her. I think she's still sleeping, which is unlike her. Will you go wake her when you're done?" his mother asked and he nodded, continuing to eat. "I'm really sorry about your dad, Bruce."

"It's not you, it's him," he said and knew that he would talk to his dad about it later.

When Bruce finished eating he stood up from the table and set his plate in the sink with the others and kissed his mother on the cheek. Then, he went to stir Paige from her bed. He went back down the hall where their bedrooms were located. He remembered when she had moved into that bedroom. After the Ranch hand's quarters had burned down and her parents had died. Four years after her birth her mother was found to have a degenerative brain disease, leaving her an invalid. One dry, hot summer the quarters for the ranch hands had caught fire. Both of her parents were caught inside. They were buried on the hillside.

He approached Paige's bedroom and found the door was still slightly cracked open.

Was she still sleeping? There was no way. He walked to the door and looked into the crack but he couldn't see anything. Was he holding his breath? He exhaled and pushed the door open to get a better look at her bedroom. Instead what he got was a full show. Paige looked at him, half poised with a t-shirt at her elbows. He glanced her chest, clad in a white bra. Her face turned red and his eyes widened.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but a noise he couldn't identify.

"Ah- sorry," he said and shut the door before she could have the sense to scream at him.

He hurried far from Paige's room and to the kitchen again, looking though the drawers. His mother looked at him.

"What are you doing, boy?"

"I'm going into the Alice to get wood. The fence is busted and I am going to fix it. I can't fit lumber in my rental. I need the jeep keys," he said and his mother went into another room, returning a moment later with the keys.

"Be careful. The car is a shitbox now, you know?"

"Yeah, I'll be back by nightfall," he said and took the keys from his mother. He ventured back to his bedroom to get his sunglasses and hat, being careful to avoid Paige at all costs. He moved to the garage alongside the homestead and climbed into the jeep that had been sitting there for who knows how long. He inserted the key and turned. The engine rolled over quite easily and the petrol indicator sat at full. He backed out of the garage and stopped to change gears when the passenger door opened.

"Drive," Paige said without looking at him.

"C'mon, get out," he told her and she looked at him, fuming.

"Drive!" she shouted and he changed gears, pulling the vehicle onto the dirt road that took them to civilization.

The jeep rattled on for an almost an hour before Paige turned and spoke.

"What were you doing in my room?"

"Mum sent me to get you," he told her, carefully watching the road for animals.

"And you didn't knock because…?" she asked him, looking very red in the face over it all.

"Didn't think about it, I guess," he responded and he risked a glance at the girl next to him. The truck bounced and rattled. The engine grumbled. Paige looked at the dash carefully and then at him. He looked at her as the engine continued to putter and spit.

"Did you check the petrol?"

"It says full," he told her and she frowned.

"But did you check it?"

"What kind of fucking question is that?" he asked and she rolled her eyes at him, settling back in the seat. She never answered. He continued driving. An hour slowly ticked by and the jeep continued to rattle and spit.

"What gear is it in?"

"Fourth. It's not the transmission," Bruce watched their speed slowly drop. "It's the engine?" he ventured and she looked over his arm at the indicators on the dash. The vehicle finally lurched. The petrol indicator sank.

"That's not good…" Paige said gently as the Jeep came to a halt.

* * *

The jeep was finished.

"For Christ's sake," Bruce growled and slammed his fist down on the dashboard. The needle that indicated how much petrol they needed jumped and settled on the E. The vehicle was old and the indicator was obviously broken. Paige was looking at the indicator over his arm.

"Did you check the petrol before we left?"

"You've asked me that a thousand fucking times. I didn't think to check it," he answered.

"Why not?"

"I haven't exactly been around, have I?"

"I don't guess you have," Paige said and opened her door, slamming it forcefully to show her anger. She walked around the back of the vehicle and opened the back to look for an extra can of gas. She slammed it closed again with curse when she found nothing. He got out of the vehicle and met up with her.

"Anything?"

"No," she answered and put her hands on her hips. She looked down the dirt road in both directions. They were too far from both the Station and Alice springs to walk. It was too far into the day. "We'll have to stay the night here in the jeep and walk in the morning. We can't make it anywhere today." She looked down the outback trail with her hand to her forehead in a mock salute. She knew that she wouldn't see anything. "If we wake up early enough we might be able to make Alice Springs by nightfall."

"That's quite a walk," he said looking at her.

"It's what we'll have to do. We have our canteens of water and a blanket. We'll just stay in the car until morning and sleep here," Paige said and put her hands on her hips. She scuffed her boots on the ground and kicked up some of the dirt. He watched her carefully.

They spent the day in the cab of the vehicle, listening to the radio and trying to stay cool. Paige fanned herself with an old owners manual for the vehicle. Bruce used his hat. Rings of sweat had begun to soak them when the night finally descended. They climbed into the cargo area of the vehicle and lay there, settling in for the night. Paige could see the stars through the back window. "We should have taken your rented car," she told him as they lay quietly. He didn't make a sound with his hat over his face. "Oye, wanker, I'm talking to you!" she said as she snatched his hat from his face. Bruce sat up and snatched the hat back.

"Would you cut it out with all the earbashing, hey? You're so keen on trying to start a row you can sleep outside with the dingos."

"You have a light?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly and pulling a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. He frowned for the sudden annoyance of her changing the subject but allowed her to hand him a cigarette. He found his lighter in his pocket and lit his own and then leaned forward to light hers. The lighter sparked and clicked but would not produce a flame.

"Outta gas," he said and smirked, inhaling from his own cigarette. Paige frowned and leaned forward. She placed a hand between his legs and another on the seat to brace herself as she leaned into him. The tip of her cigarette touched the end of his and she puffed until the tip glowed red. He watched her over the top of his sunglasses. She blew the smoke into his face before backing up and lying down to look at the stars.

"Dingos howling," she said and he listened to the sound of the wild dogs barking but he kept looking at her. Why did she do that? She pushed him, pulled him. He wasn't sure if she wanted him or if she wanted to look for another reason to hate him. Maybe it was both.

"I know what dingos sound like. I grew up here, you know," he told her finally tearing his gaze from the girl.

"You sound American," Paige responded and exhaled more smoke from her cigarette.

"Some of the men I work with are American," he answered and she rolled her eyes visibly.

"I don't care if they're American. How many Aussies are there?"

"Only me," he responded. "There's a Scottish bloke. He's only got one…"

"Don't care," Paige interrupted. "How many girls?"

"None. It's military. Only men," he said without conviction. He was expecting her to interrupt again.

"Is that why you have forgotten how to knock on a door when you enter?" she asked and moved into the front seat to throw her cigarette butt out a window.

He gave her a side-glance and didn't answer.

"Because the last I checked most people knock before entering a room. Tey usually wait for a 'COME IN'! Oh! Also, they check the petrol in their jeep before they decide to go on trip. You seem to have gotten stupid in your time away, Bruce Champion." Paige smirked at him in the darkness of the car. He frowned.

"You talk to fuckin' much," Bruce said as he finished his cigarette and disposed of it much the same way Paige had hers.

"My god, you will always be this stupid won't you?" Paige scoffed and rolled over to face away from him in their makeshift bed. "Goodnight, Bruce."

* * *

Sorry this chapter took so long to post. I had it mostly finished and then I was like in College and that sucked and so I probably didn't do as well with this chapter and I hope it's not terrible and wansty. Baw. It feels terrible.

Reviews pwease and I promise to have the next chapter up sooner. w


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter threee...

Trying to get these up faster now that I am out of school, but seeing as four isn't written... that may not happen.

* * *

The General had a crew cut, much in the way those Americans did. He was stocky, not unlike American Generals. He looked like he had walked out of a war movie. Despite his obvious age he didn't look as though he had served in the war. Bruce sat quietly at the table in the small, badly lit room. He was cold from his physical examination and sort of missed home. This General made him think of his father. He frowned and tried to think about his mother instead. That also proved futile. She had asked him to stay, had wanted to say something, give him a reason. She never did. In the end the truck bounced down the dirt road away from the station. The rearview mirror showed him a barefoot girl in a chemise dress.

"Do you have any Family?" The General was suddenly speaking to him, snapping him from his musings. The General's beady eyes stared at him in the dim light, waiting for an answer.

"Well, yeah. Yes, Sir," he answered the man, cocking an eyebrow. He didn't understand this line of questioning. He had filled all of the information out on the forms that the pretty Nurse had given him.

"You married?" The man was standing upright, but has insisted that Bruce sit. He has his hands clasped behind his back in a very professional manner.

"No, Sir. I filled this all out in the forms," he responded, trying to stop the man from asking any more questions.

"Good. Men like you don't get to be married. Shame though," he shook his thick head. Bruce watched carefully. When the man's forehead came into the light he could see sweat and he realized he was also sweating. It wasn't warm so much as the air was thick. This place was weird and suddenly he wasn't so sure he wanted to work for them.

"I'm not sure if this is the job for me," Bruce admitted to the man. He nervously drummed his long fingers on the table he was sitting at. The General watched him carefully.

"Oh, it is. That's why they picked you," The General said to him, breaking eye contact with Bruce's fingers and going back to his eyes. He smiled tightly, his lips turning to a pale thin line.

Bruce watched him carefully. "Exactly why is that?"

"You're not close with your family. You're a loner, lived in the Bush for the past three years, huh? Oh, not to mention you're one hell of a marksman. Could have used someone like you in the War."

"I was eleven during the war," Bruce said and scowled at The General.

"Well, we had Zaytsev," The General shrugged. "Hell of a shot, even if he was a communist," the man chuckled at some joke that Bruce failed to get.

"I don't kill people, you know? I hunt animals," Bruce reiterated what he had told the nurse over an hour ago. She had smiled and nodded, writing it down for him. The General smirked and nodded.

"Just pretend they're kangaroos or something!" the other man laughed and Bruce frowned.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, Sir," Bruce said through gritted teeth. "I'm not really a sniper!"

The shorter man laughed and moved forward, puttig his hands flat on the table. He smirked at Bruce. "Well, that's fine then, because I'm not really a General."

* * *

Bruce had slept thought most of the morning and didn't wake until Paige hit the window of the vehicle with her hand. Bruce jumped to consciousness and looked around. The spot Paige had occupied was empty. He rubbed his face and realized he was sweating. His shirt was stuck to his body from it. He didn't realize how warm the jeep was. The box must have been over a hundred degrees by then. He checked his watch. It was still on American time.

Bruce undid the latch and swung himself out of the back of the vehicle, shoving his hat on his head as he did so. He found Paige next to a new vehicle, one that had just pulled up, as the dirt that it kicked up behind it was still settling.

"Good morning," she said as Bruce meandered groggily up next to her. She was watching the trunk of the new vehicle where another person was digging.

"What's going on?" Bruce asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Paige turned to him.

"This nice gentleman was on the way to the station and he stopped to offer us some petrol," Paige explained waving a hand at the man. "Isn't that right, Dr. Crawford?" She smiled at the rummaging figure politely. It was obvious that she knew him.

The doctor looked up and smiled a toothy smile at the pair, "Found the petrol!"

"Wonderful!" Paige clapped her hands together and took the orange can from the man.

Bruce looked at Dr. Crawford. "Were you heading to the Champion Station?"

"Yes, Mr. Champion is due for an examination and since he doesn't seem to make it to town very often…" the man trailed off as he looked at Bruce. Dr. Crawford lifted his sunglasses and smiled. "Well, hell! It's Bruce! How have you been boy? You still living in the Bush? Your dad don't talk about you much," he continued smiling at Bruce, waiting for his answer.

"Dr. Crawford is your dad's doctor," Paige supplied to Bruce quietly as she undid the cap on the jeep. She shoved the nozzle of the can into the hole and tilted as high as it would go.

"I figured," Bruce said offhandedly to Paige, frowning.

"You two together?"

"No," Paige said and dumped the last of the petrol in the tank and then handed it back to its owner. "Bruce lives in America now," She said the words with a matter- of- fact tone that indicated not only were she still mad but that she thought he was a snob because of it.

"Oh," Dr. Crawford nodded and accepted the orange petrol can. "What you doin' there?"

"I work for a company," Bruce responded. "It's complicated," He tried to smile, but ended up feeling a bit foolish so instead he rubbed the back of his neck to quell some of the sun's heat there.

The doctor nodded to the two of them and replaced the petrol can in his trunk. They three stood in silence for a moment before the doctor reached out to shake Bruce's hand.

"Good to see you again, kid," he said and tipped his hat. Bruce nodded back to the Doctor.

"Could you tell the Champions that we'll be back today? I'm sure they're a little worried about us," Paige asked Crawford as she went to the passenger side of the jeep.

"O' course!" The other man laughed and climbed into his own vehicle. Bruce waved again at Dr. Crawford and went around to the driver's side of the vehicle and climbed in. He turned the key and held his breath. The jeep's engine roared to life and Bruce smiled at Paige. She turned her head to look out the window.

The road was bumpy all the way to Alice Springs.

* * *

There was only a small selection of streets in Alice Springs, one of which was the hardware store they were looking for. Bruce turned and glanced at Paige, who was still looking out the window. Her shoulders were freckled and now sunburned from standing with Dr. Crawford. Bruce felt a pang of guilt from not being more involved with his parents after joining the military. He shrugged it off the best he could and tried to concentrate on the road.

He drove the two to the family owned and operated hardware store in the same silence they had traveled in the last hour and a half. The store had been in operation since the Second World War. It was the same that had been there when he was a boy and he and his father would drive to town. They would go for supplies to fix the bust roof after the wet season. Go to get rope and wood and hammers and nails. Of course, afterward they always went out for ice cream or some other treat. Bruce realized that he liked that memory of his father. The memory of the warm air, the windows down as they drove and the memory of his father's tan arm on the door and a cigarette in his mouth.

"Bruce," Paige spoke suddenly, her previous silence broken completely as she turned to look at him. "We're here."

Bruce pulled up and put the vehicle in park. He looked at her a moment, hands on the wheel. He cleared his throat. "Go ahead. I'll be right in."

Paige looked at him and nodded, pushing open her door and stepping out but before she closed it she looked at him carefully, almost somberly, for a moment.

"What?" Bruce asked then, genuinely concerned with why she was looking at him. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it and then opened again.

"Nothing," Paige finally conceded as she slammed the door to the jeep.

Bruce watched her go up the steps and into the Hardware Store. He rested his head on the wheel and sighed. "What the hell is wrong with her?" he muttered into the steering column. "Damn it, it's not her it's me. What the hell is wrong with me?" he asked himself quietly. He sat in the jeep for another five minutes before putting on a smile and climbing out. He took the steps of the store slowly and quietly entered.


	4. Chapter 4

_Four_

Bruce loaded the wood into the back of the truck and wiped his hands off on his jeans. Paige set a bag of nails next to the wood and moved back around to the passenger seat. Bruce followed suit to the drivers and climbed in. Their door slammed and Bruce looked at the wheel a moment before starting the engine. Paige watched him.

"What?" Bruce asked and he stretched his arm across the back of her seat and turned his head to look behind the vehicle in order to back out of the parking space.

Paige looked at him and shrugged. "Nothing, really."

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I mean, when I came home. It has been awhile. You cut your hair again. It was long last time."

"Yeah. I've lost some weight too," Paige said and leaned on the door, looking out the window of the car as it bounced along the road.

"You don't wear boys clothes anymore," Bruce said and risked a glance at the girl next to him.

"Not really. I was wearing a dress the last time you saw me."

"You also had brown hair when I saw you. This color is darker. Is it a rinse?" Bruce said and shifted the truck into another gear.

"Yeah, it is, actually," Paige answered and did not speak anymore.

Bruce tried to remember why he had decided to leave these people. He wondered why he had been so keen to run away from his family, from the ranch, from the girl that cared for him.

The silence stretched on and Bruce wished for sound.

It was quiet for an hour, maybe more, before Paige spoke.

"I've kept my hair short since July thirteenth, 1962," she said it very suddenly. Bruce glanced at her for a moment and then looked back at the road.

"That's the day I left," he said and she looked at him and smirked.

"I know," she said. "I watched you leave and then I walked inside and took the scissor out of the drawer and cut all of my hair off."

Bruce exhaled a breath. "I'm sorry," he said and she did not look at him.

"I still have the dress."

"The yellow one?"

"Yep."

It was silent again as they entered the station. The car pulled into the garage and Bruce cut the engine. Bruce opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Paige opened her door.

"Was I your first? The night… the night you wore the yellow dress?" Bruce asked and Paige halted.

"Yeah, you were. Why?" Paige turned and looked back at the man that she had not seen in six years.

"I just wasn't sure. I wanted to ask. I'm sorry I left."

"Yeah, well, you still did it," Paige said and slammed her car door. Bruce heard her leave the garage and walk into the homestead.

Coming home was the worst idea he'd ever had.

**

* * *

**

Bruce dropped the wood next to the fence and carefully set his bag of nails next to it. The Australian sun was already beginning to sink low in the sky. Bruce hoped he could get this done before the sun completely set. He settled the first piece in place and then began nailing it to the fence. He followed it up with another. He worked silently, thinking of how destroyed his relationship with his family was and of how the rest of the team must have been doing. He wondered how everything was so fucked up and how to make Paige not hate him. He thought a lot of his father and his cancer. He thought a lot about that.

Especially that.

As if on cue, the sound of hooves on dirt caught his attention. He turned to look into the setting sun at a sharp figure riding up.

"Hello, Dad," he said gruffly to his father. The man dismounted his horse and walked over to his son.

"Bruce," he said to the boy and nodded. He looked at his son's work on the fence. "Good work, boy," he told him and squatted down next to the man. "Keep them dingoes out for sure this time."

"Can't have Paige firing that gun anymore," Bruce smiled and he heard his father chuckle. The mood turned serious again. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"About the Cancer?"

"Well, yeah."

"Probably never. However, I figure you coming home now is a good thing. Been thinking a lot," his father said and looked at the setting sun, "probably won't be around much longer. The way I see it I'll be getting worse before I get better."

"Don't talk that way, Dad," Bruce said and looked up at his father. "You've got doctors and I've got the money to help you," Bruce said and his father made an impatient noise.

"I don't want to live on the money you been given to kill folks," his father said and stood up again. No longer on the same level. No longer equal.

Bruce made a frustrated sound and stood up to look his father in the eye. He was maybe a bit taller than him now. His father's older frame shrunken by age. He looked him in the eye. "You can't keep this up. I'm tired of whatever problem you have. I make more money than a doctor for Christ's sake!"

"I know! I saw the postcard!" his father shouted back at his son. He soon launched into a coughing fit. The older man grasped the fence to steady himself as he coughed and hacked. Bruce watched his father and sighed. He moved toward his father and patted him on the back, attempting to help. He didn't stop his son from doing this. It was the most they had spoken since he had been home.

"You alright?" Bruce asked leaning over to look at his father. He looked older to him. He suddenly realized how much older his father was beginning to look. The cancer made him cough and his skin was leathery from too much sun. This man had fought in World War 2 and seen way more than his son ever had or would.

"Yeah," his father answered. He stood up straight and wiped the corner of his mouth off on the back of his hand. He looked at his son and then put his hand on his shoulder. He patted his shoulder a moment before moving back to where his horse was eating grass. He mounted it again and pulled on the reigns to make the horse turn around. "Bruce, I'm dying."

"I had a feeling," Bruce said and felt the words catch in his throat a bit. "Do you know how long?"

"The Doctor gives me no more than a year."

Then no more words were spoken. His father begun to ride away.

A very small part of Bruce wished he had spent this leave how he always did: In a different state in America with a different woman that he met in a different bar. He wished this only because a very small part of him didn't want to see this side of his father. The man that had put on his service uniform and kissed his mother. The man that pulled his boots on and mustered cattle in the scorching Outback of Australia. This man was indestructible as he rode away back toward the homestead.

This man could not die.

And yet.

Night had already descended when Bruce finally finished reconstruction on the busted fence. He deposited his hammer, nails and extra wood in the garage just in case any other holes presented themselves. He made his way to the front of the house and as he walked up the steps to the porch, he met Paige.

"Hey," she said and he looked at her. She was smoking, leaning on the railing of the porch.

"Yeah?" Bruce said, not to patiently.

"Thanks," Paige said. Her attitude had visibly softened toward him.

"It wasn't a problem," Bruce said and took his hat off in preparation to enter the homestead.

"It was important that you did that. It was also important that you talked to your father."

"Yeah. I s'pose it was," Bruce smiled and looked up at Paige. She smiled back and suddenly laughed. "What?" Bruce asked her.

She looked at him and smiled. "Do you remember when we were kids and you cut all of my hair off?"

"Oh, Jesus. Did I do that?"

"Don't remember?"

"I forgot so much about this place. It feels like it's been so many years but it's only been six and really, I only saw you once after three. If you think about it it's been nine years since we last spoke," Bruce stood quietly for a moment, staring at nothing in particular.

"I don't know how you could forget this place," Paige said and turned to look at Bruce. "I think I hated you most because you did."

"I think I would have hated me too."

"Things are looking better for yourself," Paige admitted and flicked away her cigarette butt. She stood before Bruce with her arms crossed and a smile on her lips. "I may not hate you in a few more years."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Not quite. You did sleep with me and then leave and then forget me almost completely," Paige said and Bruce flinched at what it all looked like when she said it like that. "It is a good thing that you came back though. You've got guts showing your face around her again after six years."

"Thank you. I like to think that I get that moxie from my mother," he grinned and Paige rolled her eyes. She opened the door to the house and stepped through quietly without looking back. Bruce exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Everything was beginning to fall back into place.

* * *

Blah. Lame chapter is lame.

Let me know what you think?


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